


Stars Aligned

by anna_thema



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, POV Alternating, POV Outsider, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:49:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23188051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_thema/pseuds/anna_thema
Summary: You can’t see the stars in New York, not really. The best you can get is on a clear night on the roof of a building, you might see some peeking through the skyglow. It’s nothing like out west, not like Texas. Growing up, Root used to lie on her back and look up at the stars for hours, counting them and making up constellations until she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Sometimes Hannah would be there, and they would lean into each other under the blanket to keep the cold out. Those moments are few and far between these days, but she still misses it, sometimes.Root and Shaw find each other in Central Park during a blackout.
Relationships: Hanna Frey/Root | Samantha Groves, Root | Samantha Groves/Sameen Shaw
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	Stars Aligned

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt:  
> The entire city is experiencing a power cut so Person A and Person B spend the night laying in the grass together and staring up at the stars  
> I wanted to try multiple POV in this work, to see how it worked in different contexts.
> 
> Prompt idea from love-me-a-good-prompt.tumblr.com, hit them up for some great writing ideas!  
> Also, thanks to wildflowerwordsmiths.tumblr.com for copy editing

<Monitoring Analogue Interface>

You can’t see the stars in New York, not really. The best you can get is on a clear night on the roof of a building, you might see some peeking through the skyglow. It’s nothing like out west, not like Texas. Growing up, Root used to lie on her back and look up at the stars for hours, counting them and making up constellations until she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Sometimes Hannah would be there, and they would lean into each other under the blanket to keep the cold out. Those moments are few and far between these days, but she still misses it, sometimes.

“Hey looney tunes, you there?” 

She’s jerked out of her reverie by the grating yet somehow endearing voice of Lionel Fusco. Since working more closely with Harold and John, she’s developed an appreciation for the detective.

“Loud and clear Lionel, go ahead.” 

“Yeah, glasses called, he and wonderboy are working a project uptown. He wasn’t big on the details, but he called about a power substation and said to tell you--“

“--to tell me that the Central Park area is about to lose power, yes thanks Lionel,” she finishes as The Machine feeds the rest of the information to her implant.

“Yeah, happy to be a help.” Gunfire in the background. “That sounds like our friend coming, gotta go.”

Root starts plotting the fastest route to Lionel’s position, but She assures her that things are well in hand. And when seventy-five seconds later every lamp and streetlight in Central Park goes out, there’s nothing to do but go for a walk, for once. Root finds herself lost in thought, and The Machine is silent for the time being. Hannah would have loved Central Park at night, it would have been just her kind of blend of natural and artificial. She feels a lump in her throat. Much as she may be loath to admit it, she could use some human company right now, and though she’s used to operating alone, maybe she doesn’t have to anymore. She taps her earpiece once to initiate a call and The Machine dials the number without even having to ask who it is.

“Hey sweetie, you busy?”

***

<Monitoring Primary Asset, Designation: Shaw>

Central Park is big, so big that in the center of it, you can barely see the city towering around you. As you work your way through the darkened pathways and lawns, you reflect on how strange it is to be tied to a place now. Back with the ISA, you’d be in and out of three different countries without ever sleeping in any of them. Never had the same bed twice, never saw the same people twice, and never noticed the little things about a city that make it unique, make it home.

Root’s call was overly flirty, as usual, and just as scarce on the details. You don’t have a map, but your own internal compass knows exactly where to go. You finally find the location Root gave, and see a figure lying spread eagle on the grass. For a moment it looks like Root is dead, and something other people might call panic sinks in your gut. Then she turns toward you and beckons you over. 

She’s lying on the grass, looking up at the sky, with an expression on her face that you haven’t seen on her before. 

“Your call was a little scarce on the details, what’s going on?” 

“Stargazing.” Root’s voice is barely above a whisper, the ghost of a smile on her face. Given most of your interactions with her, this is downright bleak. Something is up with her, but it’s not enough to stop your skepticism about it.

“Seriously Root? You call me in the middle of the night, in the middle of a _number_ , to go stargazing with you?”

She shrugs, looking somewhat abashed at least.

“I asked Her, but She says there’s nothing either of us can do about it right now. Lurch and Harold will take care of it, and the power will be back on in a couple hours, but for now….” Her face has a look on it that you can’t identify, and it takes a moment to realize it’s sadness. “I guess I just didn’t want to be alone.”

You're not given over to emotions like pity, but something doesn’t feel right with just leaving Root here with whatever ennui she’s gotten herself into. Besides, Root is maybe not the worst company that could be wished for. With a groan that is in no way exaggerated for effect, you deposit yourself in the grass beside her. She looks over, slightly surprised.

“Didn’t think you’d actually stay here.”

“Yeah, well, if I leave you to your own devices, you’d probably just go hijack a subway train, or graffiti the Chrysler Building, or something.” It’s not _just_ an excuse, both of those things have happened before. “So you gonna tell me what’s gotten into you or not?”

Root gives a slight shrug, her shoulder brushing against yours. “Just…thinking, about people I used to know.” Her tone makes it clear she means just one person. You’re aware of her eyes on you. “I wasn’t born ‘Root,’ you know.”

“Yeah, I know about ‘Miss Groves’, or at least, I know what Finch told me.”

“Aren’t you going to ask about the rest?”

You turn and look at her then, at her infuriating, punchable, incredibly _cute_ face. You look her straight in the eye, because this is important for her to hear.

“No. Root, I get it. People leave their pasts behind for a reason. If you ever tell me about yours, you do it on your own time. But I care about who you are now, not who you were.”

Shit. That’s more sentimental than you’ve been in the last ten years. Plus you just tacitly admitted that you care about her. Strangely though, Root is without her trademark ‘I told you so’ smirk. Instead she just says “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, Root. Now, are we gonna look at stars, or screw around?”

It’s not much, but there’s nothing either of you have to say, and nothing else that needs saying. This easy silence is enough for now, under the stars. And Reese was right. We do walk in the dark, but we don’t have to walk alone. 


End file.
